


If I Stay Here

by Crazyartdad



Category: Gorillaz
Genre: 2doc - Freeform, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Dissociation, Grief/Mourning, Kidnapping, Kissing, M/M, Nostalgia, Past Abuse, Past Drug Addiction, Past Relationships, Phase One (Gorillaz), Phase Three (Gorillaz), Phase Two (Gorillaz), Relationship Build, Stockholm Syndrome, Trying to get better
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-27
Updated: 2018-12-10
Packaged: 2018-12-20 10:53:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 8,934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11919396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crazyartdad/pseuds/Crazyartdad
Summary: Events leading up to Plastic Beach. Focusing on relationship between the lonely occupants as Murdoc tries to fix the issues.





	1. Captains Command

Blood sounded like waves as it rushed to his ears, the world seemed to spin and he desperately wanted to puke. Sight was improper and he feared for a second his shit eyes needed glasses finally from how long it was taking him to adjust. He could move now, barely but he made an effort for how it treated his churning stomach. Searching around with still blurred vision he reaches his hand up groaning at the sharp pain that rain through his muscles strained wrist. Not to mention his tongue tasted like death.

“Satan please-, Damn it, you too stupid to stay asleep?, fuckin twit”  
His vision maybe distorted but the skin now looming over him gave everything away. Weird dream? He asked himself. 

“Mmmnn-Mudz?” 

From the way things were going everything was a chore, moving, talking, seeing. Reaching his cramped hand up to the man in his still distorted view as something soft pressed against his mouth. With weak protest and confusion Stuart pushed back with a mumble, lightly grasping onto the wrist in an attempt to escape his nightmare, His name ringing once again before falling back into a dreamless sleep.

Murdoc checks his vitals if so see it's over done until he was satisfied with his results. He takes a step back to look at the lanky frame, watching a few blue strands drift from his soft breathing. Leaning back against the rotting wood of the ship he messes with the pipe in his mouth, thinking out loud.

“Could he get any thinner?”

His eye catches a glimpse of the suitcases, memories of smuggling him out of the city made him cringe, a rage that starts to boil at not only himself but for no reason His Singer. He digs his nails into his palm as darts away from the wall, kicking over the used luggage in a tantrum before storming out to the deck. Reaching that said deck Cyborg awaited orders patiently, silently, coldly. Something he usually liked but right now it only added to the unsolvable problems on his on growing list.

He barked at her, shoving the impostor hard enough to reach the ledge of the ship as he stomped to the bow. This is kidnapping. No this was smuggling his thoughts argued. It was done before and being done now so he didn't understand why this was anything different. It was only Stuart after all, why was their guilt?

Packing his pipe he watched the choppy waters against the chipping paint of the ship, looking for a pair of matches as his thoughts continued to play devil's advocate against his better judgement.

“How much longer to the dock?” He asked the captain that decided to creep behind.  
“Depends,....your cargo's pretty heavy” The old man says with a sly smile.

His rust eye darkens as his shark-like jaws continues to add new marks to the already dented pipe. Seeing his stare being unimpressed by the old fisherman he rolls his eyes sending a few tens his way, scoffing as he watched the dirty bastard.

“The waters choppy and the place you're asking is a packed house, it'll be risky going right in but the route i’ll be taking ya should do ya well off. I say... about an hour?”

‘How kind” He replies sarcastically lighting a match from the sole of his Cuban heel.


	2. Remember This Baby?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Murdoc Fetches ole Stylo and 2D meets a friend

The light slowly filled the room as the garage doors forced open, Pride washes excitedly across Murdoc's face as he lays his eyes upon his most prized possession. The white roof, the black exterior, the dents and scrapes on the left and the bullet holes on the right. The hub caps could use some work as well as a good dusting but she was still as hot as they day he bought her.

“Feast your eyes on the beauty! Satan praise this beautiful beautiful beautiful machine!” A voice echos off the hunks of various metal and box away good.

2D staggers over, shielding himself away from the striking heat as he fairly resembles a diseased character in a George Romero film. His eyes squinted, more sunken per usual, hair a jumbled mess, running a fever complete with a thin layer of cold sweat. Stuart happily braces himself against the cool stone of the garage peering into the dark room to relieve his migraine hazed eyes.

“Mudz… where… are we going?” he spoke in stutters.

Murdoc looks back only to blatantly disregard the man's question by popping the hood. He leans over, shoving his hands in to inspect that the oil slick engine is in working order. Looking closer Stuart inspects the dents and broken headlight when a fear of recognition bubbles to the surface

“Shit,..Is that?”  
“Yeah fixed it no thanks to you, dimwit” Slamming the hood with a mind shrieking sound he paps the roof in reassurance as he mutters a few sweet nothings to the cold exterior. 

Creepy..

Making his way over to the passenger side Murdoc opens the door, nodding his head as a gesture to move. Stuart eyes the car with suspicion, hesitant to move based off past experiences and another wave of pain to his temples. 

“Mudz…”  
“Just get in the fucking car”  
“Alright! Just, fuck gimme a tick” he says massaging the bridge of his nose curses the temperature change as He doesn't see the odds very well in his favor. Fighting would be a stupid idea, even he knew that. One way or another he’d have to get in the car,yes, but God Be Damned if he's moving with a headache.

You fucking dumb ass how could you forget his pills? He scolded himself as he watches the void eyed singer bury his head into the ledge for a considerable amount of time. Biting his lip a thought occurs, the one from earlier hoping to make things right. 

It's just a phase, He is an addict after all, it'll do him some good.

“Alright enough whining get in the car before I hit ya with it a third time.”

That got him to hurry up.

Shutting the door he slides over the hood and fall into the driver's seat with an almost belting an almost orgasmic sound. Murdoc wipes his hand along the dust covered dashboard, cooing more praised words as he beats the dust off onto his jeans. As shuffling around occurs, Stuart stares into the void of the garage, vision splitting two ways as Murdoc attempts to hot-wire the car numerous times. Feeling cold, A heavy drifting as he presses his head against the window. Like melting slime.

“Where's that blasted fucker” Murdoc grumbles

After a few more moments of fumbling around the Camaro roars to life freighting the rabbit that laid in the seat over. He gives a nasally laugh and shoves 2D playfully much to the others displeasure as he shifts the car into drive. The Bassists revs the engine that gives a fierce cry, throwing the signal before fixing the mirror to his reflection.Cleaning his teeth with a swipe of his tongue he looks over at the skittish mess trying to get a grip on anything to lessen his fear. Giving a toothy smirk he presses the gas, burning his tires with a roar as they burst out the garage, dragging a portion of the door with them.

“Mudz! Mud- Murdoc!” 2D screeches, mortified as the force of speed pushes the singer snugly against the leather seat.  
“Open the passenger!” The Bassists snips.  
“Wha?”  
“Open it!”

He doesn't know what scared him more, the burning flame from his eye or the mechanical laughter that followed suit as rushed to obey the command. Reaching back to push the door against the forceful wind not a moment later the back seat was occupied rushing in at an alarming rate slamming the door closed with haste.

“......” He looks at her with disbelief, a weight felt lifted from his shoulders as he eyed kid sister in the back seat, his somewhat child sitting perfectly straight as she clean and reloaded a gun. Tears threatened the corner of his eyes.

“N-noodle?, Oh my God-” He stumbles bursting into relieved sobs as he goes to touch her face only to have the barrel of the gun pointed to his face.

“Defenses off! Stand down!” Mudz yelled looking back in a panicked state as the gun was pressed forefully against Stuarts nose.

Doing as she’s told she released her hold on the trigger and pulls back from her stance taking the perfectly straight formation she held before. Baffled by her attempts to kill him and the orderly fashion he catches the heavy breathing in his throat. Peering closer into her cold mechanic eyes, watching the solid metallic gears tick like clockwork.

“....Mudz-”  
“Shut up”  
“Murdoc?” He asked again looking to him with streaming eyes.

But no answer came, and with an oncoming migraine he decides to leave it, mistaking it as a pain induced dream. Stuart shifts away from the green devil to wrap his head away into noisy darkness. Murdoc runs a hand down his face exhaustively and mumbles something to Cyborg in the back. Without tearing his eyes away from the road he steals the objects from her gloved hands, placing it onto Stuart's head in a forceful but hopefully friendly gesture.

2D grabs at the hard plastic and feels around as a sort of guessing game. A long piece of plastic,something circle like, a mouth? Moving his head up he gazes at the clown mask through the reflection in the window before looking to Murdoc once more.

‘What? Cant rob a bank in my face” With no energy to question he places the mask over his face, seemingly useful against the damaging sun as he lays against the seat to set himself into a forced sleep.


	3. Memories Like An Earworm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shit what was that fucking song again?

Cyborg leaned over the hood bracing her hands shoulder width apart while he stood behind her, wrist deep in her back of circuits, trying not to pay too much attention to the shriveling mess in the passenger seat. 

“Com’now love.” he said with strain as he tightened the bolt, finishing to move onto the wires deeper to the left, Noting caution to the fan and other hazardous items till he finally tugged a small motor belt back to its place.

With small victory he claps the shield back on, unplugging her from the car's battery. He calls her with a dead name, ordering her to retrieve her shirt, and with no complaints she dresses herself with a black sleeveless turtleneck. Too short for Stuart's tastes as it shows off her stomach and a horrible ram head belt, tighten to shorts that were again daring on the border of scolding. It's not her style that's his...

Murdoc grabs his shirt hanging from the crooked side mirror and wipes his face, spitting to the dirt with distaste. Gross. Stuart thinks as he averts his gaze to a distant billboard. Murdoc orders a new shirt from the trunk as he pulls a carton from his back pocket, hoping the crappy bic lighter he nicked from a shop would do its work. Numerous attempts for a spark causes frustration to glow from his demon eye till his lighter is finally brought to life, rewarding himself with a lungful of toxic fumes as he turns to Dee. Staring lost in thought with the mask behind his head.   
What the hell is he looking at?

He slams his hands on the roof with a loud thump, giving Stuart a heart attack much to the bassists delight. Murdoc leans down into the the open window to get a good look of the frightened turned sour expression, a teasing smile still playing on his lips.

“Did I scare you?~” he says with a singsong voice.

“I wasn't scared...”

“Speak up your stupid-ass accent is hard enough to understand without all this mumbling”

“I said! I wasn't’ scared!” 

Murdoc's eyes widen at the sudden burst but smiles once he sees the fear rising again in the man's features. He leans in giving a soft whisper making the other uncomfortable with inching closeness.

“I like it when you push…”

He watches 2D bite his lip in thought, glancing at anywhere but him as he sweats from the heat and lack of space, this makes an idea scream from the void of Murdoc’s mind and selfishly decides to ride with the impulse. Deciding to close in for a quick kiss before Cyborg interrupts him, stopping him an inch from his lips. 

“Your shirt” she speaks in her monotone voice.

Murdoc leans back with a sneer, bringing the cigarette to his lips for one last huff. Flicking it to the scorching dirt he pulls the over wore turtleneck over his head before slamming the hood shut.

“Ok kiddies time to fuckin roll” Cyborg situates herself in the back, hands folded neatly in her lap while Murdoc sits himself at the wheel, looking at Stuart stimming his fingers with a mouthful of lip, deciding to once again poke some fun/

“What were ya lookin at?”  
“Hu?, oh the sign over there” He pointed up to the billboard awhile away.  
“Sure it wasn't me?”  
“Sod off, old goth” Stuart mumbles folding his arms in displeasure.

Leaning down Murdoc gets a look through the window scanning the remains of the retro-style board, sun bleached from years of neglected upkeep as a cartoon jellyfish in a sailor getup struggled to sell its dying brand.

“Super-fast jellyfish…?” Murdoc questions

“ Yeah ‘member that? That fast food joint like a decayed ago?” Stuart informed

“Not a fucking clue” he adds, not bothering to reply whiskey washed memories to discover a fucking brand.

“Ya know like the seafood thing? They turned it into... like those home meal, kid cuisine shit” Stuart added, scratching his chin in thought

“What fucking place are you in right now? ” he looks at 2D dumbstruck.

“Come’on Mudz!, ya know it- it goes like...uhhh” he hums the tune quickly failing and restarting multiple times, trying to find the forgotten tune that once hooked into his brain late a night for no reason at all.

“Ddaadada ddaadada da daaa da da du- dadadaaa dadaaaa da daaa daadaada no wait uuuuuuuuhhhhhhh fuckin. What the fuck hang on”

“Dee, you're physically hurting me” Mudz says, watching the scrambling horror take pace meters away.

“Super-fast Super-fast, Come at last, just in time for breakfast!” He sings excitedly. Murdoc laughs in response, lightly hitting 2D over the head.

“It's a real thing” his eyes narrow as he holds the back of his head.

“Well then all hail king Neptune~” Murdoc teases as he shifts the car into drive.

As the car moves in reverse Stuart huffs in annoyance, sliding the mask over his face once more as he lays his head on the ledge of the window. Murdoc looks at the wide eyed mask and feels a strange sense of guilt as he pulls back into the road, mentally adding things to a long list on how to fix.


	4. Replacement Skin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Boogieman gives a spook  
> Stuart has a break down  
> and Murdoc fucks up, nothing new

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO I dont really have an excuse for not updating anything.
> 
> I have been writing but im really only getting half way through without a means to end, having trouble with the smut.
> 
> Im only really updating this as a last resort to feel like im actually doing something so....I hope you enjoy i guess~

Opening the hatch to the newly transformed getaway Murdoc releases the clouds of white smoke from the overheated coolant, coughing to get a breath of air. After watching the vapor escape to the sky above he asked a series of questions to the makeshift crew below.

“We good down there!?” he yells to the pit below.

When no answer replies he spits over the edge of the ship with a loud hack, muttering “he’s fine” to himself before unpacking a spyglass from his pocket. 

His gazed bounced along the cliffs as he tries to steady his sight on the man above. Nice to know the sodding bastard didn't get a scratch on him he thinks with a grimace. Bruce stood proudly, the added height from the rocks above making him look more heroic than he truly was. It rubbed in Murdoc's face like a taunt, driving the redness in his eye to spark aflame with unruly thoughts to plague his mind 

All the anger seemed to fade however once the clouds started to form, dark like a billowed night sky as the inky black smoke snaked it way around Bruce's frame. Sweet Satan..

Despite the crashing waves along the machine he could still make out the sickening snap as he watched the body descend from the skyline cliffs, knuckles turning white around the copper base as he hit, not once, but twice before splashing to the waters below.

He set the glass down slowly, eyeing the water that darkened as his eye pulsed chaotically, causing pain to throb haphazardly through, quick and sharp like a pole through the brain. The pain seemed to quicken like heart throbs the longer he stood watching the waves.

Starring..

He skitters down the latter, slamming the door as it's loud lock clamped tight.

He can't be this fucking close already, it's been two months since the city. How they hell did he find me!?

“Mu-mudz, she's not, Mudz she's not doing anything” Stuart stammered panic stricken.

Looking over he watched Stuart pull the bot to his lap,trying hard to cradle the machine despite the weight and oil that spilled from the bullet through her head, holding her despite his shaking arms and wracked sobs that spilled from his lips. Cyborg was limp, it felt all too real, the more he looked at it’s blank expression the more he was reminded of the shit person he was. Who the real monster was. He watched his Singer plead, till it was no longer too him before moving on to the control panel. 

“What do I have t-to do, Mudz?” 

 

-

Hours after the ordeal he was still there, leaning against the wall as he stares out the window.

Stuart watched the water life from the small spot window feeling plain,indecisive, and cold while the machine laid to rot in his lap. His memory glitched to a fade much like his body that abandoned him, leaving to lag miles behind the rusted shark shaped sub. He no longer shook and cried but he was far from healing.

He doesn't remember reaching for the fake flesh, holding her tight. Playing with the false skin of fingers, intertwining and rolling between his own with tentative squeezes on the pad of her palm. When Murdoc wasn't looking would he occasionally talk, moments of disconnection seeming to fade. 

He looked to the body with nostalgia, maybe not as nostalgic as looking at her with a teddy but enough to realize how perfect she looked in comparison to old photos when she was thirteen. He realized she wasn't the baby of the house anymore. “She would've been 19 now, kicking ass and taking names, going out, driving, snogging up a storm. She would of been living the life she deserved. A life somewhere far away..”

All of a sudden The Robot moved, its movements jerky before rising head over heels dry heaving to the air. Which in itself was odd and frazzled the man until tentacles splayed out in a horrific scene. Gripping the skin and metallic eyes till she finally threw up the entirety of a small octopus. The cyborg coughed out the rest of its squirming body with a sputter, wiping its mouth of oil and salt, looked to the terrified expression of the fractured man. She gave a bold unknowingly smile, harsh as if it was an action that was taught and not felt. 

This isn't Noodle.

There were a few clanks to the machine before the animal was thrown across the room with a soundful splat. Smiling even wider to the noise of Murdoc’s rough chuckle.

“Easy there luv, let's get you fixed up” he says raising from his captain's chair. Murdoc waves a finger up to gesture for her shirt as she rises from Stuarts lap setting the around her arms while he takes a check of her neck, brushing away the dark strands for accesses. 

Stuart watches from cramped fingers as he digs in her neck through various wires, watching the bob oh Murdoc’s cork pipe as it adjusts every so often.

He sat in frozen horror, listening to all the little sparks and clanks as he stimmed his fingers. Trying desperately to calm himself while the Octopus curled with the same crippling fear. Murdoc gives a murmur after closing the small port, picking up the machine with ease as he propped her on his hip. 

It made Stuart sick how he could treat such an object with more love then what used to run around in the flesh before. How he was able to brush away her hair while shoving cable after cable into hidden port chargers littered across her back. 

This isn't Noodle.

“ Sit and stay alert.” The older says with a harsh tone, hooking her to a charging port till he was satisfied with the gleam in its eyes.

He chews the end of the pipe once more while making his way back. Looking over to Stuart who played with his fingers as his blue matted mess blocks his face from view. They both sat in a somewhat uncomfortable silence till Murdoc spoke up

“Ill throw it out while we get to the shore” He says gesturing to the Octopus.

When he gets no response he rubs a hand over his face and voices the problem at hand.

“I had to fix her, we’d be shit outta luck if I didn't.”  
“It”  
“Excuse me?” He asked shooting a look   
“It, it's an it. It's not Noodle”

Murdoc gives a hearty laugh that breaks into something nervous as he finally faced Stuarts cold expression, puffy with upcoming tears.

“I know that you Twit” He spoke in a serious tone

“She's better then Noodle! Best knowledge, accuracy and aim! And she was made by my own two hands which makes her even better. In fact I think she look better than the old one-” He stalls his speech as a hiccup was heard.

“Why are you such a fuckin tosser?” He says pushing back his hair to grip his skull.

“SHE'S DEAD 2D GET OVER IT ALREADY!” he yelled defensively as he pounded his fist on the iron wall, interrupting Stuart from his flow of tears.

“We needed a new guitarist if we're going to do this album and I acted accordingly! don't throw me under the fucking train because your feelings are getting in the way, Got it!?”

“.......”

He releases the tension on the pipe in his mouth, looking to the octopus that mirrored the same depressive fear as Stuart. The Bassists soften his fist from the wall as he watches his hands grip his hair, tears falling silently in huge globs.

He rubs the bridge of his deformed nose to relieve him from his irritable itch of guilt, trying to block the thoughts of his shuddering muscles and panicked thoughts. Trying to ignore the man that blatantly displayed his grief. It was too much however, forcing the satanist to sit beside the broken man.

“Im….., I know..Stuart..”He says softly, trying to find the words.  
“I was never the best to her, and I needed her back”

He touched his arm before hugging him close, brushing his hair back as a means to settle his own coming tears that made his throat ache. The tears wet his shoulder as he rocked him back and forth. Trying to calm to mess he started in the first place.

“You needed her..”


	5. You'll Like It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hears some slow burn shit for you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Im playing with an idea here revolving around the whale so Marine biologist AU

He didn't know how much more he can take looking at that sodden blue God. He understood it was to early to mess around his head much less the sheets. Especially under the current circumstances where grief still rumbled in their chests. Some more silently than others, But the close quarters doesn't help his dick...

It's even harder when his scent overpowered the rum, the passing hours daydreaming when he should be sleeping, listening intently to the dozing breaths shooting small shivers down his spine. Even the look in his eyes held a beautiful amount of amazement when he peered at the water-life, full of awe and fear. He was a goner, he realized it the moment his thoughts wandered to his missing front teeth.

Murdoc slumped back in his chair, chewing on his pipe, Trying to seem uninterested in anything related to the man in front while simultaneously staring him down like a fox. Especially the bonding he's trying with Cyborg.

“ Well, no not quiet. It getting close though! Here” He grabs her hands to show her the handshake for the twelfth time, always getting stumped on the same damn step, He needs to stop messing with that damn robot.

“Now, copy my face” he says as he scrunches up his nose poking the tip with his tongue.

Cyborg follows suit exactly, perfectly even, leaving behind no feeling and a loose dead stare. Dee’s tongue hangs limp in a moment of realization. What am I trying to do? All was quiet till a scan was put in place by the other causing an alarm to go off in the Cyborgs head, a small series of bloops making 2D spark back. 

“Im detecting emotional distress” Noodle states bluntly looking to Murdoc with a matter of fact tone, Those two little words moving the man faster than the devil on their trail.

“Ok time for a charge” He said in reply, quickly trying cover the words with no big deal. “Tusspot why dontcha come look here for a bit?” Cyborg stands, marching straight to the plug as 2D ceases to move from his hard stare at the spot “Noodle” once sat.

“Oi, faceache”  
“...” he could still see a fuzzy outline of her if he concentrated hard enough.  
“2D!” he speaks up a bit louder.  
“God are you bloody daft?  
“Hu?” he blinks the dryness out of his eyes before answering 

Murdoc pats the arm of his chair to emphasize.

“Im...I'm good Mudz”  
“Get over here”

Stuart gives a sigh before stumbling over to the faux Captain. Standing, Silent as they listen to the passing waves, listening to every little intake of the singers breath. Its peaceful. Murdoc watched absentmindedly as the other focused on a school of fish warping through the waves. He had a hint of a smile on his lips yet, there it was again, that look in his eye. What's he scared of?

“So what's the problem?” Murdoc asks to break the silence.  
“Mean besides the kidnapping?, everything” Stuart says all too quick witted, smile wiped from his face.

Well damn, got me there.  
“I meant with the ocean”  
“What with the ocean? Nofinks wrong wit the ocean, I love it you know that” He says a little too quickly making the words unbelievable with his stumbling accent.  
“Dents”

Stuart clicks his nails together behind his back hoping to keep his nervous habits hidden as deciding whether or not to tell the man his problems.

“Its……, well its.”  
“Your mumbling” Murdoc says agitately.   
‘Whales” Stuart says speaking up.

Murdoc laughs as Stuart watches the cork pipe bob mockingly while he furrowed his brow.

“What!?” Stuart says with a bite in his words.  
“Ain't ya dad like a fish guy though?” he asks though his laugh  
“Marine biologist and yea, so?”   
“So what ya scared of those fat things anyway?”  
“It could eat me!”  
“Eat you! Eat You!? Whales eat krill dumb ass” Murdoc explains, with breathing difficult to handle  
‘Krill swim in groups don’ they?” Stuart says in a quick retort  
“Yeah?, your point?” He says calming down from his manic high.  
‘Well...when they swim in the groups it's big!...so they can mistake me for krill hu?, like when sharks bite surfers by accident?”

As he thought over his words he was taken aback at the question, could they mistake things for a group of food? It was a stupid yet, a somewhat intelligent thought that he couldn't really answer, well really how could he? Anyway he wasn't wrong.

“.....far fetched ,but this- this isn't some Pinocchio scenario Dee, and you're not scared of sharks so why whales?  
“Well, a shark is smaller... I cou’ somewhat fight back, maybe even win?”  
“Fat Chance” Murdoc says with a grin staring at the others annoyed expression.   
“Wot Im tryin ta say is that it’ll be scary jus livin in a whale. You’d just be sitting in a pitch black room made of flesh.. till ya jus die, if it dont ripe ya leg apart first.” he says ending the conversation to look out the window again.

 

…..

A loud sneeze after the following silence makes Stuart jump away, glaring at him through his sniffle. Murdoc rests his hand on the Singer's back in a non-verbal way of apology, slipping lower as he allows the rare comfort but the pair stops there, right at the hip precisely as they both gaze out the window, working out each other's uncertainty with daring movements, lower down the hip, through a belt loop, thumb rubbing at bare skin. It's only till the Bassists dares to move under the shirt does Stuart speak up.

‘Mudz..” He says with warning  
Does it really look like I know what I'm doing either? He said to know one but himself. He lingers his hold a few moments longer before dropping his arm to the side, making a chirped noise of disappointment for the both of them.

“What's it like?” Stuart asks after a pregnant pause

The question took him back few stages as he tried to pinpoint exactly what he was asking. Sensing the other's confusion he spoke before the Faux Captain had a chance of retaliation.

“You painted it pink, but like ugly pink?” He asks making idle conversation

Murdoc closes his mouth with a solid hum and hands the pipe over to 2D, Lighting a match for the mans whose hands shook to much to do so himself. Watching him inhale the fumes of the remaining salvageable tobacco before speaking.

“Its wonderful, I think. Not the type of amazement wonderful it's more like ‘why is this heap of shit here?’ sort of wonderful.” He spoke while he fanned the match out. 

“Like when ya find an arm on a corn dog..”

“Yeah?” he says with a questionable mumble to himself, repositioning in his chair.  
“Far away it looked amazing…. Then when ya get up reeeal close n’ see all the melted plastic you’ll do a double take I swear”

“So its literal garbage?”

“Yeah... not gonna sugar coat it, it's a landmass forged from a shit load of garbage. Don- don worry your pretty head though Dents. I cleaned most of it up and made a palace modified from that playboy-ishq mansion we got kicked out of in Monaco” Murdoc spoke while watching the smoke tendrils pour from his thin lips. 

Though trying to seem uninterested in the charismatic levels pooling from the Bassist he couldn't hide the smile threatening to form at the corner of his mouth.

“You'll like it we got a studio, a lovely rotting lighthouse where I hold my radio channel, and a very Hot sun~”

“It sounds like crap Mudz” Stuart said laughing as he handed the pipe back to him.


	6. Broken Vinyls Cause Tears

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stuart hates this place

Just a few steps on the molten mixed-pink sand and he already hated the fucking place. The sun shone aggressively on his back, already brightening his skin while visible fumes hit his senses hard to where the bandanna could only work so much. No birds dared to land on this treasure trashed trove that was only good for an eyesore to the murky water behind, furthering his hatred to the already shitty situation. As Stuart turned back to the building no words could describe.... Disillusioned, Ok one word could, and that word fucking worked.

Murdoc traveled over with a crate settling beside the man to meet his gaze to the “Palace” above.

“....So! how does it-”  
“Its still- its fuckin horri-Murdoc what the hell..” He says with no hesitation.

 

A crackled laugh is barely audible over the push and pull of the glass bottle waves, as he adjusted the crate under his arms he looked over to Stuart with a smile taunting his voice.. 

“Wait till you see one of its crappy days” Murdoc states though the tattered cloth.

A thump is heard from the surfaced sub as both men turn back to see Cyborg unpacking crate after crate along the barnacled covered dock. How they thrive here beats me.. Murdoc throws the crate over to Stuart and races over the the bucket of bolts, waving her to come down. Eyeing the crate of its contents confusion took his face from the amount of homemade rum and questionable amount of shells. Glancing back to Mudz helping down the teenage doppelganger without so much of a clunk left something of a bad taste in his mouth...besides the sewage air that is.

Stuart shifted the cloth mask as he questioned the bassist motives, watching him talk to the abomination as it were something worth, like it was even worth the time. Cyborg gave a nod of acceptance to its captains words and jumped off the side of the dock to the heated sand below, she made no protest to the heat or the sickening smell as she marched her way over to the man in blue.

Noodle grabbed Stuarts wrist with no mind of her own strength and started to drag his way over to another portion of the beach. Dee protested with yanks and swears at first, digging his heels into the sand second but nothing could really have changed the outcome, so to the unknown he followed. 

Passing decks full of decorated waiting areas and an intricately built fire pit left Dee puzzled. The thought of Murdoc putting time into anything other than music and drugs confused him. He took his own time to build such a place for God only knows what left Stuart with a sense of awe and a word he cant seem to put his tongue on, something sad and amazed that asks about that man he once knew and a life that changed. As they passed crate after crate of unknown contents left him with more questions doubtful to ever being answered he became more willing to walk next to the being that was once dragging him through the sand.

“Murdoc really made all this?”

“Yes” She spoke matter of factually as they reached a elevator door enveloped in the islands pink plasticy crust.

“And...You”

“Yes, is it hard to grasp?” She says looking to him, after punching in mindless numbers

“He's….just never shown somethin like this, heh… i'm starting to worry he's gone mad and flipped a switch” he says tentatively listening to his own words.

“There are many switches in the housing above”

“That's not-,ok” he says leaving the conversation as they both step foot into the ever-rising lift.

It was actually magnificent. Huge bay windows for gazing out on starlit nights, cooling cement walls to barricade against the scorching toxic heat, and high ceilings for space filling him with a memory of being thrown out on his ass.It was nicely modernized yet still had its beach house charisma, with its planted palm trees and tall grass bushes round the deck, the patches of astonishingly kept grass. Without a doubt it was The Monaco design. He could already sense that vague moment of deja vu. Not only the part of hanging out in the sitting room with the girls but also the stained memory of Murdoc slipping ashtrays in his bag an hour before leaving.

Gift for My brother my arse.

As they climbed the nicely laid steps Cyborg released the death grip on his wrist and punched a few numbers into the waiting keypad. The door chimed a small blo bloo bloop making the other release a sigh of pleasure. With a signal of light the door slid open with a satisfying swish, hitting him with a burst of welcomed cool air. Noodle stood guard eyes fixated on him while Stuart shook his bruised wrist. 

“Do….I go in?”

“My orders were to escort you to the house”

“...so,yeah?”  
“Do as you wish” and with that she left leaving behind an anxious lanky man.

He stays put another minute or two skeptical of the given instructions before acting upon the words. It's that black and white hu… he thought to himself with a roll of his eyes. Stepping inside he kick his shoes off while eyeing the polished wood paneling.. It was pretty quiet, the windows blocked out most of the heat and noise of the ocean as expected, the tall ceilings had added windows for light, the furniture wasn't hideous and even held some charm with the added record player near the bookshelf. He did a great job. Half of him wanted to explore each level, each room each floor but the better part of him, the one that knew Murdoc decided to keep his anxious ass put until shown around.

He abandoned the crate of rum and shells on the coffee table to pursue the bookshelf full of records, each pick better than the last. Classics of Aphrodite's Child, The Clash and Cure, Weezer, RadioHead, 3rd eye blind, a shit ton of Black Sabbath to no one's surprised and a few original rolling stones records and shit from the 50’s too his own knowledge It seems there was nothing he didn't have. 

Popping in the first of the stack Stuart sits next to the machine browsing the album cover, absentmindedly taking in the sight of the huge block numbers against the stark red background. It reminded him of Murdoc’s cigarettes funny enough and started to crave his own.

He found himself sitting on the stark white couch an hour later as Clash played through the room. His gaze was stuck to the window eyeing the sun crouching low over the taunting sea and wondered when or if he would be seeing anymore of the bassists tonight. He then started to reminisces his teenage years when the Clash rolled big, he remembered the concerts as well as his phases of posters littering his small bedroom walls. It was getting hard to understand how much he's aged since then.

As the records switched his mind raced towards Paula. The Cure was a big influence of her music and her all time passion, never would there be a bigger fan. It took him awhile to listen to them again after the breakup as the songs would paint the picture of her rouge lips and decked out hair. It took strength and the ever rotten presence of Murdoc to not call her back.

By the time he switched the discs to The Green Album to let sweater song play he went in search of the missing light switch.

The walls had a sort of popcorn ceiling texture, the type you find in hospitals or cheap apartment flats, where you would gaze at the ceiling for hours making pictures with drunk friends and count the dots on sleepless nights. An art project, where you would engrave the texture onto paper like you would the gravestones on a scout troop field trip. His fingers brush against the wall for abit, feeling the smooth paint in contrast to the bubbly speckle till he hits a switch. oooo a slidey boi. He turned the lights up halfway (after a few fun flickers) as to not hurt his eyes anymore then he had prior then shuffled over to the crate in inspect each of the shells.

Plucking one from the sample he dusted the sand off and held it to his ear, trying to let the ocean sound sooth him as it once did. Trying to go back to a time where the ocean was a fun family trip and not a bitten leg reminder.

The record sang as he ambled his way back over, watching the vinyl slowly spin against the grain of the needle. If he inspected closer and really listen he could hear the separation of the disc gave from the help of a needle and the actual speaker sound 

He drops the shell as he jumps out of his skin.

Murdoc mouths an apology against the brunette's neck, nuzzling in the others scent as his overpowered with rum.

Like the selection?, thought since you’d be coming around i'd expand my tastes”his voice was rough, raspy even he didn't understand how it could excite him.

“its….fine” 2D replied flatly trying to take his mind away from the idle hands at his waist.

“You told me right?, or at least it was you that told me, that you you liked Weezer? Either that er probably Noodle” he whispered, voice brushing against his ear.

As the kisses trailed down his neck Stuart thought about pushing away, while his body might have said yes his mind was still screaming second thoughts on the whole ordeal. His lips burned his skin like the heat that burned his face earlier that day. And as the hand set closer to his belt his legs started to wobble.

Just then Murdoc gave a nip to his shoulder pulling a moan from his singer.

“Shi-t Mudz-”

“Stuat...”

That wasn't a whimper was it?, Murdoc doesn't whimper...

Mudz then sets on pressing his tongue to the would be bruise tomorrow, fumbling his fingers over the singers growing erection with idle protests, Stuart then pushes himself from the record player causing Murdoc to stagger back.

“Mudz, I cant, we need to stop”  
“Can't we just enjoy the island for abit luv~? Nice music, mood lighting, what's better than a little quickie on the couch~?” he loses his speech in a drunken chuckle.

Almost forgot he's drunk

“I didnt even wanna come here why would I enjoy it?”

Murdoc growls in frustration

“You wouldn't have even came if I asked” He shouts back.

“How would you know!?, You always assume fings for the worse”

“The last thing you would of wanted-”  
‘The last thing I wudda wanted was ta be kidnapped!, Gassed!?, Taken in a suitcase! What the fuck was goin through ya head Mudz!”

“SHUT UP!”

The record ended leaving them in heaving silence. Left in hated filled stances and heavy breaths. Murdoc rubbed at his temples tiredly looking down to his singers feet.

“Your getting better at arguing, when did this happen?”  
“Shouldn't’uv forgotten my pills hu?” He says daringly.

The bassists reached out for his hands as the other slapped them away in refute. Gaining a negative reaction from the bassist, he grasped his forearms angrily pinning them to the record stand. Stuart let out a whine of pain from the edge of the wood training his eyes on the bruising grasp,at the shaking hands with dug in nails,the anger in his eyes.. 

It hurt, not only the bruises that started to puff on his skin but the scratched record that played the same scene over and over ,Just like his eyes, just like his head, just like Murdoc.. It wasn't going to get better. He looked to him, with the coldest glare his black eyes could muster.

“Stuart..” 

Murdoc lessened his grip trying to sooth the coming bruises with his thumbs, Muttering his name in apology in drunken stumbles. Stuart then rips himself away, stalking to the patio with long strides and risen shoulders. Holding the angry red welts forming on his to pale skin.

Neither of them slept that night.


	7. Like A Song That Never Dies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Murdoc trips and reflects

He rolled onto his back tossing and turning for what felt like the seventh time that night. Peering up to the star filled dome unable to pinpoint the cause of his unrest. There was to many possibilities, the pirates hunting him down, his endless paranoia mixed with coke from earlier that night. The periodic shots of rum every interrupted sleep cycle but his bet was the Melodica being played through the vents.

Si,Me,Si,Me,Re

“E,B,D,E,B…” He noted quietly, making a mental save of each note.

It’s echo through the vent was haunting but welcomed. It was the only indication that the singer was still alive, and a thousand times better than hearing the sniffling yelps of nightmares they seemed to both be pledged with.

Thoughts raced in his mind, groggy and thick, muttered all at once like a group chat you weren't apart of, all tracing back to things unanswered. Murdoc sits up with a huff fumbling around for the bottle of rum that once sat near the end the end of the bed.

“He's scared of whales...that underwater room is probably a hellscape”  
“I want to hear him sing again”  
“I hope Noodle is having the time of her life, living or dead”  
“Wheres Cortez?”  
“I probably shouldn't have done that line of coke”

 

“Its shit like this.." its a line spoken from Stuart days ago that spoke the loudest.

His heart, that he hasn't even fathomed to still exist, stopped cold. He couldn't catch the entirety of his sentence as he walked out but there was enough evidence in the shake of his voice to know what he meant. To be completely honest the whole ordeal felt like some wet dream turned nightmare. It took him forever after the ordeal to wrap his head around that this happened. Watching for planes he asked himself. When did this start, WHY did this start? Hell he never was the greatest guy he knew that, but beating was one thing

“You're just like your Father” he remembers his mother saying. Beelzebub's ass, he couldn't even recollect a more horrid sentence. Even drowned in whiskey-coke that thought still haunts him worse then the pirates that he narrowly escapes every time.

Knocking back the rest of the two/three shots that swished in his bottled he hears him again, faintly. Not a scream or a whimper, a slow haunting melody that burned his skin like cigarettes yet tingled, like invisible gnats from a bad trip, a fire in his lungs. Longing. Its the shit like this… he thinks back.

“Living outta body here, what can I do?”  
“Its up to the doc everyday, to join in with you”  
.  
It was a siren's call, beautiful and enriching much like him. Slow and steady, he could already picture the man curled at the end of his bed, hands gripping the melodica while gazing out the sea-view window. Calmly, he sings the mindless words as the currents flow against the 10 inch glass.

“I had to get away, for a little while”

His voice was a slumbered mumble as the Bassist half growled to the now sudden white noise of the house. Why was he so perfect? his sleepy voice was perfect, his looks were perfect, His whole being no matter how fucked up he changed him was still. Perfect.


	8. Musical Genius

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It'll Stop once it's over.

Idly plucking the strings to his bass he relaxes against the balcony wall, cool from the added shade of planted palm trees. Murdoc played using the ocean as his tempometer as it crashed along the forever melting shore. Taking a break of flicking his cigarette ash over the ledge he notices his singer knee deep in the tide pool below 

“What in lucifer's name?” He mumbles between the cigarette clamped to his lips.

Then out of the corner of his sight he spots Cyborg which eases the tension Well...if he's not escaping… Stuart crouches in the salted tide to grab what was wiggling past his foot. Murdoc had to catch himself from falling as he strained his neck while watching the other pull a fish into view. It was a decent sized weakfish silently choking from the plastic ring around his gills. Setting El Diablo down beside him he watches as the Bluebird lower's the fish back to the water, lowly murmuring apologizes to the thing no doubt while he practiced on trying wedge the poor creature out.

“I don't know why he tries, it's only going to die somewhere else on this blasted beach”

Craww

The noise came like a sudden burst of terror making the bassist drop his cigarette onto Stuarts head. Letting out a curse for the fallen stick he ducks away from the pointed glare and whips his head around at the source of noise, smiling gratefully at the sight above. A flapping crow languidly landing a foot away on a potted tree. A genuine smile plastered along the man's face as he stuck his arm out to the bird cooing its name with affection.

“Ahhhh Cortez, Lovely to see you. How have we been Darling?” He asks honey-tongued, soothing the feathers under its chin with a brush of his knuckles.

The black beauty ruffles in response as the older man continues his charm for another a minute or two. letting the bird free from its spoiled coddle, lighting a second cigarette that the other so rudely disturbed, and leans back against the cool concrete. Cortez hops onto the headstock of the bass and taps the notches, gleefully checking if the device was in tune.

“Of course its tuned you twit” He states through a cloud of smoke “I wouldn't play it if it wasn't”

“Hoo! whoo~ JuGar!” Cortez says with a struggle through its scratchy voice making the other beam with pride.

“Sure ill give ya a taste” He says helping the bird onto the ledge.

Devil given talents emerged as he skillfully played along the four strings of hell leaving fire born notes spilling from the amp. The musically talented bird listened seeming pleased with the decisions in notes. 

Closing the rift Cortez flapped its wings in protest ceasing his musical movement.

“What? No?” He asks questioningly. “Well what do you know! you only a bird!” he says scoffing to the feathered beast.

It squawks at him in distaste making the man flinch from the sudden frightening movement. 

“Well shove it up yours as well you ninny” Murdoc sighs and looks over the ledge, all past grudges forgotten as soon as he hears a peculiar noise. A series of computer start up noises after hearing a distressed shout from below that somewhat quickens your pace.

“You can't you jus! Just..help me clean please” the way his body language changes so drastically from rage then depressed shocked you. He's been so non existent it felt he was living with a ghost might as well be a shadow of him, a sort of sliver of recognizing that this outburst felt like a bomb compared to the actual nip that it just was.

You see him slouch cross armed as he held cupped his eyes in guilt. No doubt counting his breaths in his head as a means to calm down. Cyborg has alerted you minutes ago but in honesty you too afraid to move from you seat especially as Cortez stands there perched on your bass with a jaded glare in it’s black glass-like eye. 

And as the voices start to dance around once more Murdoc finally jumps to end the distress signal, rushing back to his room to trap himself in what he calls his artistic cell in hopes to finish this thing by himself, It’ll be over once it’s done.


	9. Output 20% Safe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stuart doesn't want to think about his situation

He swung the bag back around his shoulder after shoving in a few more bottles that were making its way to shore. Yet despite his efforts it seemed every bottle that washed up five more bags, and a dangered animal followed suit.

“I've been doing this for hours now and it looks to get nothin done.”  
“Permission to speak” The Cyborg spoke up from the beach.  
“Um yeah?” he answered confused.  
“You are cleaning the beach and detaching objects from sea life, It's questionable”  
“You're asking me a question?  
“The sea life even after you detach them from pollution still have slim chance of survival”  
“Well….would you like to die by choking on a plastic ring?”  
“I can not die, I am artificial intelligence made with machinery and practical human DNA”

He ceased to talk with her after that line, face twisting up in disgust at the thought of this solid copy trying to do good, as it. As it steals her face, her hair her, eyes her-

“You are displeased, Have I displeased you?”  
“Yeah, lookin at you’s a chore” He answered quickly in a snap.  
“How may I correct the behavior to something more pleasing” Her words tried to mean something, He Knew It did, but with so much anger subdued inside he couldn't help to care for once.

 

“You cant- it, Its just how I feel” he spits out clenching the garbage bag tighter in his fist.   
“I've been programmed to provide assistance, how may I help?”  
“You can't just!,...just...clean the ocean with me” He says first in anger before sighing in defeat. Knowing it would mean no hope to explain.

He covers his eyes from the glaring sun, trying to block the rays from his oncoming migraine that seems to shoot down his skull and numb the inner corners of his eyes in pain. He knows it’s still standing there as he counts his breaths and he can seem to do anything about it at the moment.

Then after a few minutes of finally settling down and deciding to go back in, he opens his eyes to find the droid shoveling heaps of pollution into its arms after somehow making its arms into a makeshift net. 

It makes you feel better.


End file.
